


even better than the real thing

by thedevilchicken



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Therapy, Consent Issues, M/M, Wakandan Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Bucky knows what's happening. But somewhere in the middle, the lines get blurred.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, past James "Bucky" Barnes/Alexander Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Flash Fuck: Round One (2019)





	even better than the real thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seinmit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seinmit/gifts).



Bucky understands that what he's seeing isn't real. At least, it's not as real as it seems. Or maybe it's exactly as real as it seems, he guesses, because once you get past the superficial resemblance, the guy sitting in front of him who looks a lot like Alexander Pierce really isn't Alexander Pierce at all. 

"It'll help him," he heard Steve telling Shuri. "I swear. I know him. This is absolutely what he needs." And maybe Shuri didn't seem all the way convinced by that, even if he sounded pretty earnest, but she was convinced enough to trust him with this one little piece of Wakandan technology. That technology is why it looks like Pierce is in his room when the bastard's really dead and gone. He can hail HYDRA all the way from hell if he wants to, Bucky thinks, just as long as he stays there. Just as long as he never has to see him again. 

He takes a slow breath in and exhales just as slowly. He's seeing him again right now, except he knows what he sees is some kind of hi-tech illusion Shuri cooked up in her lab. Pierce is sitting there on the couch in this room that's his but not really his, in a really sharp gray three-piece suit with the jacket unbuttoned and his arms stretched out along the couch back. He has his legs crossed at the knee and he should look casual like that, he should look commanding just like he always did, except something's wrong with the picture. 

There's a smile on his face but it's not Pierce's smile. He's wearing glasses but Pierce mostly took them off to meet him, more to do with vanity than with what he knew the Winter Soldier would do with them if ordered to. He might as well catalog what's right about what he's seeing instead of what's not because damn if that wouldn't make for a shorter list. 

"Soldier," Pierce says, and it's his voice but then again it's not. 

Bucky clenches his jaw. Bucky clenches his hand. "Sir," he replies, because he knows that's what expected. Maybe not what the real Pierce would want, but definitely what this Pierce does.

"Aren't you pleased to see me, Soldier?"

"Always, Sir." 

Pierce nods. He shifts. He uncrosses his legs and then crosses them again just the other way around and the way he does it, almost awkward...Alexander Pierce was never awkward a day in his life. It's disappointing, it's like a sharp knife twisting in his gut, but technology can only take you so far and Steve was always a shitty actor. 

"What are you orders, Sir?" he asks. For a second, Steve frowns in a way that looks completely out of place on Pierce's face, and Bucky hates that the imprecision of it makes him angry. He could give Steve whole hours worth of classes on how Pierce should look and sound and act but lesson number one is this: Pierce was always in control. He'd never let the Soldier have the upper hand. 

"Undress," Steve says, and it's such a goddamn basic step, like he's picked himself up a beginner's guide to BDSM down at the used book store, that Bucky wants to laugh out loud. He doesn't. He says, "Yes, Sir," and he starts to undress with his one remaining hand on his one remaining arm and jeez, Steve's entire Cap-in-Pierce-clothing body twitches toward him like he wants to volunteer to help. Pierce for damn sure never would have. Pierce would have watched him and waited and wondered out loud what they were doing with a one-armed assassin, was this the best they could do? But the Soldier would never have flinched and so he doesn't now. He strips himself one-handed, till he's standing there naked in front of him, because that was what he was told to do. 

"On your knees, Soldier." He kneels. "Touch yourself." He does. But Pierce would never have wanted to see him touch himself, not unless it was in front of a whole room of HYDRA agents and even then, he probably wouldn't have watched it. What Pierce liked most, when they were alone together, was giving him things to fit inside himself and settling back with a glass of scotch to watch him try; he never gave him anything he couldn't take eventually, with some work and perseverance, but Bucky's never known if that was just by luck or by design. Now he'll never know.

He strokes himself. Steve watches. Steve-as-Pierce watches, at least, sitting there pseudo-casual on the couch in his immaculate gray suit that looks like nothing in the world that Steve would ever wear, but he's made a real effort. Steve watches Bucky spread his knees against the floor and squeeze his balls, then lick his thumb and rub it slow and tight against the tip of his cock. Bucky watches as one of Steve-Pierce's hands comes down from the back of the couch to rub slowly at the growing bulge in the front of his pants. He watches him use both hands next, then unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. He watches him lift his hips to shove them down and free his cock. Pierce might have done that, too, if the mood struck, or he might have made the Soldier do the work.

"Come here," Steve says. So Bucky crawls closer, not because it's the quickest or the most convenient way to get across the room but because it's what he knows Pierce would've wanted. "Suck me," Steve says, and so Bucky leans in close. And everything about it is wrong. Almost everything. Because the cock in front of his face looks just like Alexander Pierce's, and when he wraps his hand around it, it _feels_ like Alexander Pierce's, but when he leans in close to lick its tip, it tastes like Steve and smells like Steve and fuck, oh fuck, he wishes to God that he'd told him to stop instead of playing along. But he didn't. And the fact is he won't. 

He sucks him. He wants to and he doesn't want to, but he sucks him. He takes him in deep - he remembers how, like the Soldier's still in him and he guesses he is because frankly, he doesn't know if he'll ever be anything else. He sucks him, hungrily, gagging the first time he hits the back of his throat but he expects the way his eyes water. He swipes the not-quite-tears away with the back of his hand and he keeps on going, bobbing, sucking, till Steve gets his hand to his fucked up shoulder and pushes him back. And when he looks up at him, blurry-eyed so he can't see all the details, it really might be Pierce. His cock twitches. He feels the tip leak.

"Down," Steve says, as he stands himself up, and Bucky knows precisely what he means. He turns, still kneeling. He sinks down low onto his forearm, knees spread out wide, cock hanging low and hard and heavy. Pierce would have had him lean down over a table instead, most likely; he liked to press his cheek down to it while he had Bucky use his hands to spread his cheeks for him. Bucky can't spread his cheeks now he's using his one hand to prop himself up, so Steve does it once he's kneeling, too, and he makes a strange sound in the back of his throat when he finds he's wearing the plug again. They talked about that not too long ago, how he doesn't have to keep on keeping ready now HYDRA don't have him, but he likes to. He likes knowing if they took him, he'd be loose enough and slick and waiting, like he is now when Steve eases it out to expose his hole. It's all part of his routine, and he needs routine. He needs it like he doesn't need this. 

Steve slicks himself. He pushes up against him, he pushes in, and the groan, oh fuck, it sounds like Pierce. It sounds like Pierce and Bucky's dick throbs and throbs and fucking throbs from it. Steve fucks him, slow and deep, and he knows it's Steve, he does, but someplace in his mind it's all tangled up and the hands at his hips might be Pierce's instead. He can't catch his breath. He pushes back against his thrusts. His head swims. His chest's tight. The room fucking spins. And somehow he comes before Steve does, wound up tight till he spills over the floor and it makes Steve groan, like Pierce, _like Pierce_ , and then like himself again. When he pulls out and Bucky turns to look at him, he's Steve again, in a crumpled three-piece suit and glasses that don't fit right. When he pushes him down on his back and shoves back into him, it's Steve. Steve fucks him. Steve comes in him. Not Pierce. 

And after, when he's flushed and spent and leaking come that Pierce would have made him clean up then and there, with his tongue or his own shirt, Steve says, "Come to bed."

Bucky nods. "I'll be right in," he says, and he watches Steve go as he's catching his breath. He rakes his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. He screws his eyes shut and makes everything blur all hot and red.

He told Steve about the things Pierce did, one night while they were in bed together, and he guesses he mistook the way his dick got stiff for interest. He should tell him that shit's just been conditioned into him, years of it and not just Pierce, then maybe he could understand how Bucky's dick's just Pavlov's fucking dog. But, right now, he'll head into the bedroom and he'll pretend to sleep, and act like nothing's wrong at all. He'll act like maybe Steve was right.

 _It'll help him_ , Steve told Shuri, and the fact Bucky heard meant Steve wanted him to hear. He gave him an out, and he didn't take it. That's all on him, not Steve.

So maybe that means he wants it after all, or maybe it just means he's fucked up past redemption. And next time, he thinks, Steve will make a better Pierce. 

And him, well. The Soldier will be better, too.


End file.
